


Too Good at Goodbyes

by HappyStony



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angry Steve, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Hurt Steve, I'm too much of a sucker for happy endings, It's fiction but be safe kids, M/M, Random tube of vaseline, Tony falls in love too easily, Unrequited Love, definitely non canon compliant, hopefully i got it right, kinda angst, only there for the convenience of the author, or is he in love?, or so it seems, sad Steve, so very cliché happy ending, um no condoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyStony/pseuds/HappyStony
Summary: When they caught their breath, Tony had chuckled. "Shit, Cap. Didn't know you had it in ya." His breath was hot against Steve's neck. Steve shivered when Tony chuckled a second later. "This sure beats insomnia, huh?"Steve let his head roll back, eyes closed.Yeah, Tony was always good at stripping him of his innocence.Or basically Tony and Steve start a 'friends with benefits' relationship and Steve "accidentally" falls in love.





	Too Good at Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo first kind of "short story". I've always been into writing long ass stories but I felt like writing something a bit shorter for once. Sure, still 12k (almost 13) but like it at least isn't 15k. 
> 
> The girls mentioned are actually girls from other comics and I literally just googled Tony's love life and used a bit of the back story of each one and tried to incorporate it, so the names and some of the events are NOT mine.  
> Alllsooo just a warning that they dont use condoms but like they're both clean and let's assume they've already talked about this, k? 
> 
> Aaaaand I kind of centured it around Steve and Tony so everyone else was mostly vague and barely mentioned on purpose. I really wanted to focus on the pairing themselves, specifically Steve. 
> 
> Sorry one last thing: Very cliché ish kind of ending because I HATE sad endings so if you feel like some pain then don't read like the last few paragraphs hehe

Steve would be lying if he said he didn't know exactly when or how the 'just a bit more than friends' relationship with Tony started. There's no definitive answer on _why_  it happened; it just kind of _did_. Yet, that's how it always has been with Tony, hasn't it? There's dates, times, and reasons—but no explanations. He's a wild card; dangerous, in a way. Steve knew that, has known that, and yet he was reeled in just like the rest of them.

_Just like the rest of them._

It was a Tuesday, in the beginning of June. Tony's birthday had just passed, but everyone was still talking about it. The papers raved about his wild party; of course they did. Supers, celebrities—hell, government officials, business partners and women from countries Steve didn't even know existed went over to visit. It was crazy. At least, that's what they had said. Steve didn't know.

Captain America never went.

As previously stated, Steve knew Tony was dangerous, wild, and they butted heads. They were friends, in a sense, of course. They had to be. However, keeping his distance when he could was basically a priority. One he should have kept.

Steve, in all truthfulness, hadn't known that Tony would notice. They're friends, no surprise there, but Steve had already wished Tony a happy birthday the morning of (he only remembers now, when he thinks about it, because he was so confused at the time on why Tony seemed upset. A part of him wonders if that was always an act, or if Tony had actually cared, once.)

Right. This has nothing to do with Tony's birthday anyway. He was reading about it the day he and Tony had sex for the first time.

(There was a time where he probably would have blushed at such a thought, but Tony's always been good at stripping him of his innocence.)

He was reading the newspaper, something Tony always complained about for no particular reason, and he happened across the section left for Tony's party just as he was called into a mission. He didn't think about putting or tucking the newspaper away. He left it on the counter, for everyone to see, as he left the common room to attend Avengers business.

It was an overgrown lizard that day, terrorizing New York.

"Hey, it's Godzilla!" Someone had yelled, or at least it was something along those lines, as he and the Avengers took the lizard on. It wasn't anything hard; just a bit tedious, but it still left everyone tired, sore, and ready to go home by the time 'Godzilla' was defeated. All in all, it was a successful mission.

Steve was done taking a shower by the time he reached his usual spot in the kitchen. No one was there, except Tony. Staring down at the newspaper. Steve had hesitated, for whatever reason, but he practically felt the tension before Tony spoke. It was soft, almost as if he didn't mean to speak.

"You never came."

It took Steve only a few seconds to understand what Tony was talking about. He shifted awkwardly. "Wasn't aware I was needed."

Tony looked up at that, a thoughtful expression on his face, before it twisted up into annoyance. "No one was _needed_. It was my birthday party." He then added, quietly, "You should've came."

Steve stood quietly, unsure of how he could respond to that. Did he have to apologize? Make it up to Tony? He chose the former. Willing to choose the latter, if Tony was still upset.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you felt that way."

"Who wouldn't want you at their birthday party?" Tony asked incredulously, before turning red. The longer the conversation went, the more awkward it was getting. Luckily, Tony had begun to realize that and backed down. "Sorry, I mean—never mind. I just—I looked for you and," he laughed at himself, which only made Steve feel worse. "Eh, I can show off Captain America any other day of the week, huh? That was dumb. This is dumb. I'm tired. Godzilla and everything else is driving me nuts. I'm just gonna," He stopped, and jerked his thumb back behind him before he turned to walk away. "See ya, Cap!" He called out after rounding a corner, but Steve remained where he was, silent.

He had felt terrible.

(Now? Steve wishes he still had that power over Tony; even if it is fake.)

It had been exactly 11:15 p.m. when he went down to Tony's lab. Why? Steve doesn't know exactly _why_. There were reasons (bored, not tired enough to sleep, needed a distraction, wanted to apologize again), but no real _explanation_. That should have been the first warning, really.

He walked in casually. Nothing was locked, and he wasn't kicked out when he was noticed. Tony continued doing what he was doing, expression concentrated on his latest toy. He was sitting on a stool, hands all over the machine.  That should have been the second warning. Tony was always better alone, much more acquainted with robots and metals and his own thoughts than humans. (That's a lie, but Steve's managed to convince himself that it's the truth; it's always been the truth.)

Steve sat there, on the couch that was probably used more often than Tony's own bed, for probably a good ten minutes before either of them spoke. Steve spent most of the time wondering why the hell he didn't bring his sketchbook, and then contemplated on leaving and coming back, but then Tony leaned back, either in satisfaction or frustration, and chose that moment to acknowledge Steve.

"Heyya, Cap. What brings you here at...?" He stopped, and Steve remembers smiling fondly. He hates that. Hates that he was always soft around Tony. He was weak; so, so weak. (Still is.)

"Eleven. Almost midnight," Steve answered, leaning forward, and he rested his chin onto his palm. He was content; relaxed. There was nothing he was afraid of. Not Tony—at the time, he was probably more afraid of an unlikely earthquake than Tony. (It makes Steve bitter, that he use to trust Tony like that, when Tony never trusted him.)

Tony's eyes widened. "That early?" He asked, and rubbed his hands around his face. He must had taken a shower earlier as well, because he wasn't as dirty as he probably should had been. If only he was. Maybe then it would have saved Steve from the pain he had to endure for years to come. (It's Steve's fault, too. He let it happen. It's easier to blame it on Tony, though.)

"Early?" Steve said, and he laughed. Ha. As if Steve didn't already know who—well, not who he was, just the type of person Tony was. (Is.)

Tony grinned at him. It was nice, having Tony smile at him like that. All teeth and no worries. "You know me, Cap. Can't sleep—or won't, actually. I can sleep. Just too much brain activity to cope with."

Steve hummed. "Me too. Too much energy." He hesitated. "And, the war, you know. I wake up easily."

Tony sat up at that, and his eyes showed concern. (Did it really? A distraction, was what he wanted.) "The room's suppose to be soundproof but I can try—"

"No, it's not," Steve paused. "noise.  But thanks. For offering."

Tony slumped a bit, not knowing what to do with himself. There was another moment of comfortable silence, just random background noise here and there, when Tony stood from his stool, and walked over to Steve with a thoughtful expression.

"We should create something," He randomly announced, after he plopped himself down right next to Steve. "To help with sleeping. God knows everyone living here needs it."

Steve raised an eyebrow, while he looked at Tony's side profile. Tony wasn't looking at him; he was lost in his own thoughts, per usual. "And how would we do that? I know absolutely nothing about the human brain."

Tony snorted, and finally looked at Steve. "Don't play dumb with me, Cap. But, not medicine, I guess. Like—maybe there's some other type of trigger that can help us fall asleep. Certain noises, images, activities...," he trailed off, his eyes glazed.

Unfortunately, Steve actually put some thought into it. He sat there, next to Tony, thighs touching and shoulders bumping, and thought about what used to put him to sleep.

That should have been the third warning, before he was suddenly sucked in, and never returned.

"When I was younger, before the serum, what really helped me fall asleep was the sound of my Ma's humming and two warm blankets on a cold night," Steve said, and he was opening up to Tony. More than usual; much more personal, and intimate. Something that definitely couldn't be taken back.

And Tony must have noticed that, because he spoke back, softly, and just as raw and honest, if not more. (Steve knows it was the truth, it was honest and it was Tony. But how many others had he told that story to, for his own personal gain?)

"I couldn't go to bed without Jarvis promising me a bedtime story," He said, his voice a bit tight. He wasn't looking at Steve anymore. "And that was just to go to bed. For me to fall asleep, I _had_ to be tucked in first. Tightly. Almost to the point of suffocating," Tony laughed. "And then, it had to be dark. Jarvis had to cover all of the windows with a thick blanket, as well as under the door. Pitch black." He paused, after he noticed that his hands were moving along with his words. Steve had liked it. Tony left his hands on his lap when he spoke up again. "Finally, Jarvis had to be really close, right next to my bed, and talk to me in a soft voice. I didn't want him too loud. I don't know why? It just," Tony laughed again, covering his hands with his face, "I remember, one time Jarvis was getting so frustrated with me because I kept interrupting him. He never _said_ it, but every time I said ' _quieter_ ' he would give this sigh, and I would just _know_ , as he spoke again, that I was annoying him. But I didn't stop. Not until he had just the right pitch. After that, he didn't need to be told how quiet he should be."

Steve stared at Tony. He hadn't fallen in love; no, not yet. He realized that he still didn't know everything about Tony, and he felt, oddly, appreciative. And when Tony finally looked back at him, his hair disheveled and eyes, framed with such thick and beautiful lashes, looking at him with uncertainty and a hint of something else, Steve couldn't help himself. He fucking couldn't, and that's what makes Steve so bitter.

From the beginning, all this pain and betrayal was brought to him because he couldn't help himself.

He leaned in, slowly enough for Tony to back away, say no—or maybe ask what he's doing. Say he was dating someone. Say he didn't like Steve that way, _anything_. But he didn't. He continued to stare, to process what was going on, and then he leaned in himself, just as slowly.

When their lips touched, it was soft. So soft. Just lips upon lips, barely any pressure. It's hard for Steve to accept, that he was probably the one that tilted his head, lifted his hand up to tentatively grab Tony's jaw and lean in further, pulling back only to adjust his position, and then give Tony a proper kiss.

Tony responded, just as hesitantly. He tilted his head to accommodate Steve's angle, his hand somehow appearing on Steve's shoulder. When they realized that neither one was going to stop, they seemed to have gotten more comfortable, slowly increasing their pace.

This one Steve knows for sure; Tony was the one that bit Steve's bottom lip, just so, and pushed himself closer to Steve while teasingly soothing the flesh with his incredibly warm tongue. All in the span of a couple seconds.

Time was running slow, with Steve. He felt everything as if it all came separately, in minutes each. The way Tony shifted, his hand just beginning to grip Steve's shoulder. The way his teeth felt against Steve, the pressure and the tug of it on his lip. The way Tony's tongue had felt in that moment; hot, wet, and tantalizingly slow. And that was only a test; a flick, to see how Steve would react.

And Steve reacted, just as any person under Tony's spell would. He gave in, and with that he ended up giving it all, as well.

He twisted his torso, and the hand that was cupping Tony's jaw went to the back of his neck; his fingers stretching and weaving through the  thick hair at the nape of it. It had felt so foreign, and wonderful. Something Steve would never forget.

His other hand went somewhere, lazily holding Tony's hip, seeing as the genius moved as well in order to get more comfortable. Tony's hands went around Steve's neck, the kiss slowly getting heated. Their tongues began to meet; acquainted with one another by the time Tony finally moved and plopped himself onto Steve's lap, his hands moving up to Steve's jaw to hold him in place (or maybe to feel it move; working for Tony, trapped inside blood, muscle and skin.)

Steve groaned when Tony began to move, experimentally at first. It was just a tiny grind of the hips, and Steve's fingers had flexed, their grip tightened on the hip bones, this time hidden underneath what felt like too many clothes.

He lifted Tony's shirt, only by a couple inches, to feel the skin underneath. His hands roamed almost desperately, or maybe possessively, as he went up and down Tony's flanks. Tony had appreciated the touch, because he began to grind again, just as slowly and tantalizingly as his tongue.

Steve was getting hot. His face was burning, and it was getting harder to breath. When he finally did pull away, Tony had quickly moved on to Steve's cheek, and then his jaw, and then his ear; his breath just as harsh as Steve's. He hadn't stopped doing that slow, painful grind, and he was making quiet, wonderful noises with each painstaking rut. Steve's hands began to explore more south, gripping Tony's ass experimentally, and then forced Tony to quicken his pace by grabbing and pulling.

Tony gasped and moaned, at first sitting up a bit before sitting back down to continue what he was doing. He sucked Steve's earlobe, and then licked just underneath it. He slowly made his way downwards, each kiss, lick, and suck leaving Steve dizzy with arousal.

When Tony couldn't go any further down Steve's neck he moved to the other side, abusing it just as much before he reached Steve's ear, still panting before he moaned, " _Steve_."  And his hips stuttered a bit.

Steve only kissed him again, and then started to buck his hips up against Tony's, the earlier friction not enough anymore. Tony had gasped, his mouth wide and open against Steve's, and Steve was quick to plunge his tongue in, obsessed with the feel of Tony's.

Tony recovered quickly, moaning and greeting Steve with just as much enthusiasm. His hands then explored Steve's torso, and he lifted the shirt up right as he reached the hem of it. They pulled apart for only a second, the t-shirt already thrown almost half way across the workshop (courtesy of Steve) when they resumed. Tony's hands didn't stop. They were everywhere. Steve's neck, shoulders, pecs, ribs, gut—he was mapping him out, before his hands finally settled on Steve's pants.

Tony pulled back, just a bit, and Steve finally opened his eyes. The scene in front of him was erotic. Tony had already looked wrecked; a different kind of glaze over his eyes this time, skin flushed, lips red and swollen. He was looking at Steve too.

"Steve," Tony said again, and it sounded more like a gasp than anything else, and Steve only leaned in, wanting to taste Tony's sweaty skin. Tony made a desperate noise from the back of his throat, pulling Steve in closer. " _Steve_."

Steve hummed, and then nipped somewhere just underneath Tony's jawline. Tony made another small noise.

"What—what are we doing?" Tony finally asked, and Steve had only shrugged. If only he pulled back, thought about it, and pulled away. If only, if only. No, what he did was pull Tony in tighter, and marked him as much as he could with his mouth. Tony didn't question anything after that. Never did again.

Tony pulled away after a couple seconds, and Steve probably would have whined if Tony didn't push Steve's chest back against the couch and settled his face in between Steve's legs. Steve's cock jerked at the sight, Tony's face so close to his bulge, looking ravished.

The man was quick at pulling both Steve's sweats and briefs down, grabbing hold of the throbbing member to keep it steady before wrapping his mouth around the tip and sucking. Steve jerked again, and he groaned at the feeling. He lifted one arm to cover his eyes and the other to grip his thigh, not wanting to finish too early. Tony wasn't helping though. He was insistent; taking almost all of Steve in, his _hot_ , _wet_ tongue pressed tightly up against the underside of Steve's cock. He was overly messy with his saliva, because everything was wet, and his breaths would come out in puffs every time he took a moment to breath. Steve never looked down to see the sight (if he did, it would have been over. He should have. Maybe things would have changed).

When Steve was sure he was seconds away from cumming all over Tony's face, he used the hand gripping his thigh to gently tug Tony's hair and pull him away, and his other hand quickly squeezed the base of his cock. Tony didn't question, or resist, instead he leaned back up to give Steve another filthy kiss. He mumbled something against Steve's lips, along the lines of, "Why're yer covering yer eyes?" But he never let the blond answer, his lips and tongue unrelenting when Steve tried to talk. It didn't matter anyway, because Tony was back on top of Steve, unbuttoning his jeans to pull his dick out.

It was quick and messy. Tony grabbed the both of them, his tongue swallowing all of Steve's noises of pleasure as he quickened his pace. Steve bucked against Tony, and finally used his own hand to wrap around the both of them. It felt good, their cocks pressed against each other, and Steve liked the way Tony's dick felt against his fingers. It was new, and wrong, but it felt—amazing. Better than amazing.

Tony pulled away from Steve's lips, and when Steve opened his eyes he looked at just the moment Tony let go of their cocks, spitting onto his hand to make the movements more slick. It was raunchy, the way Tony did it so casually before biting Steve's lips and moaning against them when his hand found its way down again.

Their pace was quick and brutal; only there to get themselves off as quickly as possible. Nothing was sweet or passionate. And that was okay. (It _was_. At the time.)

Steve's moans started to get higher, his bucking more erratic, and Tony pushed Steve's hand away and replaced it with his own, both hands tight and quick. Steve cupped Tony's ass as his moans became more desperate, and Tony pulled away, lips shiny and pink.

"Come on," he mumbled huskily, his face contorted into pleasure, "I'm close. _Fuck_."

Steve moaned brokenly, and then whispered, " _Tony_."

Tony came quickly, his groan broken off with a gasp, his head slumping down to rest on Steve's shoulder, and then his hands were even more slick with his cum, and Steve let go a few seconds later.

The awful pace Tony had set slowed down a bit, but he didn't stop until Steve started to quiver, and when he let go his hands were a mess; white and sticky, covered in both of their semen.

When they caught their breath, Tony had chuckled. " _Shit_ , Cap. Didn't know you had it in ya." His breath was hot against Steve's neck. Steve shivered when Tony chuckled a second later. "This sure beats insomnia, huh?"

Steve let his head roll back, eyes closed.

Yeah, Tony was always good at stripping him of his innocence.

~~~

Their second time together, well, Steve only remembers because it was completely unexpected. And this one was _definitely_ Tony's fault. It was only a few days after their first time, and they weren't even acting awkward around one another. It wasn't exactly as if it never happened, but neither of them spoke about it. Up until the following Monday, that is.

This time they were up against a blue blob of goo, of which someone had yelled out: "Hey, it's B.O.B! You know, from Monsters Vs. Aliens? Anyone?"

If Steve remembers correctly, which he does, this one was particularly messy. They had no way of beating it, just slowing it down. It was hours of constant fighting with a huge jello monster (and a brief moment of being absolutely crushed at the idea of loosing his shield, up until B.O.B was burned alive with Thor's lightening and his shield popped out). Basically, Thor ended up saving the day once he was cleared to do so.

 _Everyone_  was covered in goo. For that, they were left off to clean up and re-freshen themselves before debriefing later that day. They were all to take _quick_ showers, so that's what most of them did. Except Tony.

And Steve.

Steve had just gotten out of the shower when Tony waltzed in, chest bare, and only a towel covering the rest of him. Steve barely glanced at the glowing blue piece of metal on the man's chest, because he's seen it before, and Tony walked closer, keeping a comfortable distance between them. Steve was suddenly all too aware of his own lack of clothing—only a towel, as well.

Tony chewed on the bottom of his lip, only for a second, before he pointed at his chest. "This bother you?"

Steve shook his head, and barely had enough time to say, "No, why?" Before Tony leaned up and kissed him, both hands already tangled in Steve's hair. (Steve should have said yes. Should have been repulsed. But of course he wasn't. He never will be.) Steve kissed back without a second thought. Hell, it was the polite thing to do.

And then Tony started to lead them back into the bathroom; the air still steamy from the shower Steve just finished. The billionaire had already pulled his towel off, and was in the middle of tugging Steve's down when the blond made a surprised noise from the back of his throat, hand quickly wrapping around Tony's wrist.

"Wait," Steve rasped, but Tony didn't stop his assault. He pressed himself flush against Steve, mouthing at his neck. "Is this—this is gonna be a thing?"

Tony moaned, and then bucked his hips against Steve's towel, his dick already half hard. "God, I hope so. Know how many times I've thought about this?"

Steve let himself chuckle, breathless. "No."

Tony let himself laugh, too, and pulled away to look at Steve with a seductive grin. "Wanna find out?"

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. Tony kept muttering about fantasies coming to life, and how exciting shower sex was. He was persistent, and greedy. He pulled Steve into the shower after it was hot enough, mouths slotting easily with the water. Steve held Tony closer, his hands probably gripping his waist a bit harder than necessary, but only because he didn't want Tony to slip. (He'll learn, later, that he'll never hurt Tony, because Tony will never let him.)

Steve was unsure about the 'shower sex'. He had stroked himself in the past, in the shower, but it isn't anything particularly exciting. He had nothing to properly slick himself up with, and he had never thought of using shampoo, soap, or anything of the like, too afraid to try them out and too embarrassed to google or ask. Tony was patient enough to explain, though he found it amusing.

"No—no shampoo or any shower items," Tony had breathed out, chuckling as he enclosed Steve into his arms, both of them loosely wrapped around Steve's neck; his thighs tightened around the blond's waist. (Which made Steve nervous, because Tony had insisted on Steve carrying him and pressing him up against the cold tile wall.) "They can burn, trust me. There's a tube of Vaseline, right there—next to the—yeah, perfect."

When Steve popped the thing open with his thumb and gripped it where he can grab a good amount of the stuff before letting it drop to the ground and kicked it away, he wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, like before, and spread the Vaseline around before properly jerking them off. He never questioned why the hell his _shower had a tube of Vaseline_.

Tony had moaned, smiling. "Fuck—you're so fucking hot."

Steve had been flattered, and for awhile it would still leave him giddy, until Steve would grow to hate it. (He was always there for Steve's body. _Only_  his body.)

It was quick, after that. Tony held on tightly to Steve, pulled his head down to Tony's neck and moaned encouraging words. Steve kissed along his wet skin, thrusting up into his hand. Tony came first, after Steve gave a pretty harsh hickey. Steve followed soon after.

Tony let go after that, with a satisfied grin once his feet hit the floor. He patted Steve on the shoulder, as if Steve just did him a favor. (Which he _did_ , God, he always gave and gave and never, for the longest time, accepted that he meant _nothing_.)

"Alright," Tony chuckled, when Steve just stood there, "If you're waiting around for round two you're gonna have to wait at least half an hour."

Steve walked out after giving Tony a playful glare. It didn't hurt, it really didn't, but Steve kind of wishes that he was in love with Tony by then. Maybe he would have realized how hopeless it was and ran off while he could.

~~~

The first time he realized that he liked Tony was after a month of fucking around, and then suddenly stopping.

It was because of _her_. (It would always be a _her_ , as Steve would begin to figure out, and later he would begin to resent _him_ , instead of them.)

Her name was Marianne Rodgers. Not the first, nor the last, woman that Tony would fall in love with. But she was the first one Tony would fall in love with in front of Steve. And Steve would hate every second of it.

"She's just," Tony had tried to explain one day, his eyes bright with excitement, " _different_. She's so sexy in that insane way, you know?"

In the end, Tony was right about her being crazy.

~~~

"We're over," he gasped against Steve's lips, two months later, moaning when Steve pressed him against the door of the supply closet. "She's—she was literally insane. She's in an asylum right now."

~~~

Bethany Cabe was second.

This was just a couple months after Marianne, and by then Steve and Tony had already established a type of system. They met up at least twice a week, minimum, and have made it their personal mission to fuck against everything and anything that was possible. It became a kind of inside joke.

And then Tony sat Steve down one day, his expression serious.

"You remember Bethany?" Tony asked, a safe distance away from Steve on the couch. Steve slowly nodded his head. "I...I like her. A lot. And I think we should, you know, end this. It was fun, but I'm serious about her. She—she's one of my best friends, and she's helping me be a better person. She _makes_ me a better person. I might—I think I lover her. I can't do this knowing that."

Steve didn't know, back then, what the hell he was feeling in his chest. He was hurt, but _why_? He already knew he had a crush on Tony, who wouldn't? But the thing is, that pain, it was much more excruciating than Steve had expected, and all he did was smile and nod.

He fucking smiled and nodded. As if Tony, out of every single person on that planet, needed an understanding friend like that.

It hurt. It wasn't _Steve_ making Tony a better person? It wasn't _Steve_ that was Tony's best friend? It wasn't _Steve_ that Tony was in love with? No, no, and no. Apparently not. _Obviously_  not.

It would be in those months, that he was suddenly tossed aside because he wasn't _needed_ anymore, that he would attempt to pursue a relationship with Sharon Carter.

~~~

Sharon Carter was everything Steve could have asked for. She was strong, beautiful, smart, independent, and stubborn. And there were times, when she reminded him too much of Peggy, that he would suddenly feel ashamed with himself. But then he would think about Tony, and _Bethany_ , and tell himself that he needed to move on.

And he did. For awhile.

He and Sharon split. It wrecked him. (It wouldn't be their last. He would later create an off and on relationship with her, which would ironically keep him sane for the most part.)

And, as fate would have it, Tony and Bethany broke up, too, two weeks later. And Tony was devastated.

"She _left_ me," Tony sobbed, against Steve's shoulder, five minutes after cumming all over Steve's face, "Her fucking husband is still alive—in _Germany_. Am I terrible to wish that he never lived?"

Steve never thought Tony was terrible. Foolish, was he.

~~~

The third was Indries Moomji. Something about her constantly set Steve on alert.

The way that she came out of nowhere, and the fact that Tony had fallen in love so quickly, and deeply. He was on cloud nine.

"She's magnificent!" Tony explained, smiling up at the ceiling in his workshop. Steve was sitting on the couch, where they've had sex more times than he can count, sketching. "She's literally perfect. I don't know _how_ , but she gets me."

 _And I don't?_ Steve had wanted to ask, but he had learned to keep his mouth shut. Almost a year of 'friends with benefits, definitely not boyfriends' taught him that.

A couple weeks later, she leaves him without any explanation, leaving Tony broken-hearted. He began to drink more often, and had drunkenly told the whole story to Steve one night, after Steve fingered him for the first time.

"She was fucking sent here, to help take over my company. How fucked up is that, huh?" He paused, solemn. "How fucking easy am I?"

~~~

Brie Daniels was, in a way, worse. Steve had suspected something off with her too, but again, he had said nothing. (Good for him. If only he didn't always run back to Tony every chance he could.)

This time was different, though, because Tony didn't end it like the other times.

"Come on," Tony purred, biting Steve's lip, "It isn't cheating if there's no feelings."

Steve should have laughed in his face. But, like the puppy he was, he kissed Tony back.

Steve didn't understand how Tony could claim he loved someone, while sleeping with someone else behind their back. (Later, Steve would be a hypocrite.)

~~~

In the end, Steve was right about Brie being off; she left the moment she got famous for dating Tony. Luckily, Tony took it better than the last abrupt abandonment.

"At least I've got you," Tony mumbled once, Steve three fingers deep in his ass. Tony held on to Steve tightly that night.

~~~

Tony and Steve started to fight a lot.

Of course they did in the past, but now everything Tony did became an even more important deal than before. But at the same, Tony was doing more stupid shit than before.

Steve could never tell when he was over exaggerating, or when he had the right to be upset. Either way, people began to see the strain in their relationship.

That didn't stop them, however. They fought. But then they made up.

"Maybe we should fight more," Tony had laughed, the sound cutting off a moment after when Steve decided to twist his fingers like that, roughly. Steve smirked.

"What?" Steve asked, smiling despite himself. "You like it when we fight?"

Tony had looked him in the eye, a glint in them. "I like it when we make up."

Steve licked a fate stripe starting from the bottom of Tony's balls to the tip of his cock, and that was the end of the conversation.

~~~

They made love for the first time, after two years, in Steve's bedroom. There were still other woman, on and off, but none of them were important, which left Steve happy for awhile.

Undoubtedly, that night was one of the best nights Steve had ever had.

(He would lie to Sharon, on a cold night, as they both cuddled, naked, under the sheets, and whisper to her that what they just did was the best thing that ever happened to him. It was the first night that they said they loved each other. He wouldn't feel guilty. Only disappointed.)

Tony pulled Steve onto the bed, their lips never parting, but only because of the amount of times they've done it. They were both already naked, and hard, and Steve was grinding against Tony's erection, face hidden in Tony's neck, when the billionaire moaned out, " _Fuck me._ "

Steve didn't stop, he thought he knew what Tony was talking about. He grabbed the lube he kept near his bed, and went back to kissing Tony. He slicked his fingers, and then teased around Tony's hole. Tony kept his legs wide, wider than necessary, but Steve didn't question it. Nor did he question Tony's stuttered gasps, as if he was preparing himself for something.

He finally pushed a finger in, and slowly fucked Tony with it. He added a second only moments later, because he knew how Tony liked it. He liked being stretched with Steve's fingers.

After awhile he added a third. And that's where it usually ended. Steve fucked Tony with his fingers until he came, and then Steve would be given a mind blowing blow job before Tony left to freshen up with a shower.

This time, Tony nudged him, his breathing more labored than usual. When Steve looked at him, he nodded his head.

"I'm ready," Tony whispered, and when Steve slowly stopped, confusion written on his face, Tony's eyes had widened. "Or—or you want a condom? I have one in my pants somewhere—"

"Condom?" Steve spluttered, because what the hell would he do with—

And then it dawned on him. Tony wanted Steve to actually fuck him. To make love to him.

"I'm sorry," Tony rushed out. "Fuck, never mind. Pretend I didn't say anything. I'm fucking stupid, I don't know what I was thinking—"

Steve shut him up with a kiss, and after awhile he pulled away with a smile. (He felt honored. Loved, even. Hah. How dumb Steve was.)

"Tony—I would really, really like to," Steve admitted. Tony beamed at him.

"Ah—great. Good. So, condoms? Do we need 'em?"

Steve shrugged. "Depends. I only use them for Sharon, but if you're more comfortable...?"

Tony's face only winced for half a second. Tony didn't exactly like when Steve mentioned Sharon. (Only because Tony's a control freak. He wanted to control Steve. And he did, for the most part.)

"Nope. 'M fine," Tony said, and quickly pulled him down for a kiss. 

Steve prepped him again, despite Tony's protests. He then used a pillow to lift Tony's hips up a bit, before he leaned into Tony's space and finally pushed the head of his lubed up cock into Tony's hole.

It was still tight, but that wasn't really a surprise. Steve was a bit large, but Tony insisted that he could take it. His face was contorted into pain, though, and Steve stopped about half way, with a tremendous amount of strength because he wasn't kidding; Tony was still extremely tight.

"What? Why'd you stop? What—" Tony asked, and Steve gently kissed his nose, bravely. Tony blushed at the sweet gesture.

"Are you okay?" Steve whispered, and Tony had only stared. He stared, as if he realized something, and then slowly let himself nod. (He did, God, and Steve was so clueless.)

"Yeah," he had croaked, "Yeah. Come on, move."

And Steve did. He pushed it all the way in, and he stayed like that for awhile, as Tony gasped and groaned, before Tony told him to hurry up and fuck him. Steve didn't. Not right away, at least. He forced a slow pace, which Tony still moaned and writhed at. He was pulling Steve in close, his whines desperate.

"Come on," Tony said, as he wrapped his legs around Steve, and pushed Steve's ass, forcing his cock in quicker. They both moaned at the feeling. "Come on, Steve. Fuck me like I'm the only one. Like there's nobody else."

And Steve did. He set a torturous pace; one that left Tony walking funny for two days. (Tony enjoyed it like that.)

He had also bravely held Tony's hands that night, intertwining them and placing their fingers near Tony's head. Tony let it happen; or maybe he didn't notice right away, too distracted with Steve's tongue and Steve's cock fucking him into oblivion.

Steve would have let it drag on for hours, honest to God, but the way Tony groaned and grabbed and pulled and—and he was jacking himself off quickly, and when Tony came with a low, guttural noise, he tightened around Steve's dick, and it set the blond off a mere seconds later.

And Tony, he stayed. He pulled Steve in closer, rested his head against the mans shoulder and stayed. They slept in each other's arms, and Steve was the happiest man on earth.

At least, for roughly nine hours.

One hour after that, he would be one of the happiest men on earth.

Three hours after that, he would be a happy man.

Four more hours later, he would feel like the whole world was against him, and for once, be angry with Tony.

He would wake up alone, the day after they 'made love', but that wouldn't be what hindered his mood.

He walked out of his bedroom after a nice, warm shower, even whistling as he made his way to the common kitchen. He was still glowing from the night before. Everyone noticed, but no one commented.

After eating breakfast, he would wait around for Tony, doing nothing all day. Lunch would come and go; he would wait, in the kitchen, near Tony's empty workshop, in his room. He would only call Tony twice, not wanting to annoy him, in case he was just having a busy day.

And then Tony finally came home.

With another woman.

He was upset when he saw them. More than upset, but he kept his rage in. He also didn't meet her at first, running away the moment he saw her.

He didn't speak to Tony for _days_. He was hoping Tony would notice, care, _something_. But he only kept her around.

And then, a week later, Tony barged into Steve's room as if nothing happened and kissed him, like it was normal.

Steve pulled away from Tony, frowning and glaring.

" _Tony_ ," he hissed, and he made sure that Tony wasn't touching him anymore, or else he wouldn't be able to pull away and properly scold Tony. "What are you—what do you think you're _doing_?"

Tony furrowed his eyebrows, looking, stupidly enough, _offended_.

"Uh—I, um, what we usually...do?" Tony asked, his cheeks slowly growing pink. Steve would have relished the moment if he wasn't so annoyed.

"No—you haven't—we haven't even spoken for a _week_ , Tony," Steve stressed, knowing at the time that he was teetering on a dangerous ledge. He was too engrossed in his feelings to properly acknowledge it. (Luckily, or really, unluckily, Tony was purposely dense in that particular moment. Or more dense than usual, at least.)

"And?" Tony asked, and he was starting to get worked up. "I'm sure there've been times even _longer_ than that!"

"I don't," Steve paused, throat getting tight. Tony was trying to get closer again, and Steve took another step back. He made the stupid move of saying some random shit instead of just telling the truth. (This probably was one of the last moments Steve could have saved himself from all this pain.) "I don't want to do this anymore—I don't want us sneaking around behind another girls back!"

Tony had recoiled at first, raw hurt on his face, until the last part of Steve's sentence registered. (He always had a _way_ ; always, always!)

"Oh," Tony said, and suddenly he smiled. "Oh, no. No. That's fine. Kathy—we decided not to be exclusive. Really, we talked about it."

Steve stilled. "You...you told her about us?"

Tony shook his head quickly. "Huh? No! No, God, no. The conversation just kind of came up, and we both agreed that we were fine with seeing other people. It's cool, Steve, we're fine."

_We're fine._

Such manipulative words.

Words that Steve gobbled up like a starved man, uncaring if they were poisoned or not.

And with that same weakness, he charged over to Tony, and not only gobbled his words, but sucked his lips, and swallowed his lust—mistaking it for love.

They fucked a second time.

And after that, there was a third, then a fourth, then a fifth, and so on until somewhere in the middle—Steve couldn't deny it anymore.

And he let himself fall in love.

He just forgot that nothing would catch him.

~~~

Tony was leaving him again. And he was so fucking sure this time, that everything was alright. That maybe Tony was done with those other women.

But there Tony was, trying to say that he fell in love for the hundredth time. (If it was so easy for the bastard to fall in love, then why didn't he ever fall for Steve when he was always _right there_?)

"I don't know what's gotten into you," Tony said, confusion clearly written on his face, and even a bit defensive.

Steve didn't know what he was doing, he just knew that he couldn't do it anymore.

"I—," his throat closed. What could he say? "Tony, please, I'm so tired just being—being _used_."

Tony scoffed. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about? You're the one that started this shit. And I'm ending this _right now_. So what's the fucking problem?"

That hurt. It really did. But that wasn't enough for Steve.

"I'm tired of you _leaving_ me," Steve finally confessed, and Tony froze. Steve stupidly barreled on. "I'm tired of you falling in love with all these girls and getting your heart broken and coming back to me to fix it, Tony. Can't you see that I'm—that I lo—"

"Stop," Tony snapped, and Steve closed his mouth on instinct. Tony looked angry, but not surprised. And for once Steve finally got a _hint_.

And he blanched, stumbling over his own feet. Tony looked at him guiltily, and Steve couldn't even glance at the man.

"How," Steve croaked, and Tony made a small noise. "How long?" He didn't bother asking how he knew, because they both knew that Tony wasn't stupid.

"Steve—" Tony tried, his voice unbearably soft. Steve didn't _need_ that.

"I asked a question," Steve growled, and Tony's shoulders finally squared, and he didn't look so guilty anymore, his facade gone.

"For a while," he responded measuredly, but it wasn't enough for Steve. He was in the middle of a crisis, and he kept digging the knife even _further_ while trying to take the damn thing out.

"How _long_ ," Steve repeated, and Tony sighed.

"The first time we fucked, alright?" Tony sighed again, as if this was just a big inconvenience—which, really, it was. "Look I—I thought that you'd get over it. Honestly. Most of the time I thought you _did_."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowing. "You knew and you didn't bother stopping this? You didn't—you fucking knew Tony, and you—you _still_ used me?"

Tony hesitated, only for a second. He crossed his arms. "You're a grown man, Steve. I thought I made it obvious that either of us can stop this when we want."

"I _did_ ," Steve said quickly, voice icy. Why did his chest hurt so bad? His eyes stung and he couldn't breath, dammit. "And you dragged me back in."

"Once!" Tony yelled, throwing his hands up. "Once, Steve, and you told me you didn't want to do shit behind their backs. You didn't say you wanted to stop— _whatever_ we have is."

"Fuck you," Steve responded, and he took a threatening step closer to Tony. " _Fuck you_. You fucking—I thought you were better than this, God! How could you even," Steve took a breath, not able to quite comprehend the situation. Tony jutted his chin, jaw clenched and arms crossed again. _Why?!_ Steve wanted to scream.

"Well, it's what you signed up for. I'm an asshole. Everyone knows that."

"No wonder no one bothers to stay," Steve hissed, and finally Tony's cover broke a bit—he looked pained. "After all those people—that long list of 'real' relationships, and not one bothered to stay. I use to wonder why—why does Tony do this? Why does Tony always choose the wrong ones? But," Steve laughed, albeit hollowly, "it was never _them_. It was always _you_ , Tony. _You're_ not enough. You never will be, huh?" Tony's expression finally went blank, and Steve didn't even have it in himself to get angry. He only took one last jab. "And you know what?" He hated that his voice cracked at that, and tears threatened to spill over, "When this one leaves, which I _know_  she will, you won't have me to turn to anymore."

He was breathing hard, only a couple inches from Tony. It was silent for a solid thirty seconds, Tony's face perfectly blank, before he lazily caught Steve's eye.

"Great," Tony said, his voice rough. "Bet you're upset you're not part of that list then, huh?"

Steve stood shock still, a single tear finally slipping over, and Tony left.

( _That bastard_.)

Steve sobbed twenty minutes later, when the situation finally dawned on him. He stayed in for the rest of the day.

~~~

That time, Tony left her. One month later. No one ever saw him unless there was a mission.

~~~

Steve was mad at first. Extremely angry. He stayed that way for a good few weeks before everyone started to gang up on him, wondering what the hell was up his ass.

It only made him more angry, because no one (or at least no one hinted that they did) knew about him and Tony; their unique relationship. Some did try to bring Tony up, but Steve would only explode, and eventually people stopped saying 'Tony' around him.

Which he immediately regretted. He hated only seeing and hearing Iron Man, despite everything that Tony did to him.

It took a few more weeks for Steve to get past the anger, and he skipped through the sadness and quickly rebuilt his life. He got back with Sharon (after months of pining and hating Tony, and only giving her half ass excuses of being 'busy'. He doesn't understand why she took him back), talked to more of his friends, went out, and built a life that involved the least amount of Tony, which wasn't that hard in the end.

Except those moments where he would catch the man in the kitchen, or walking through the halls, or in the gym, or during debriefs, or catching the back of his head as he walked out of a door, just as Steve walked in. He would still get a pang in his chest, and all those unresolved feelings would come in an instant.

It sucked. Still sucks.

~~~

This morning, there was a mission. An easy one, it seemed, at first glance. There were mutated animals eating and destroying anything in their wake, apparently controlled by a madwoman who called herself 'Vetrah' and carried a staff that controlled the vicious animals.

Captain America, Iron Man, Hawkeye, and Falcon were called to stop Vetrah.

There were approximately 20 sighted mutated animals on the loose; all dangerous. In a quick briefing, they knew they were up against four snakes, two lions, six gorillas, two elephants, four wolves, and two other unknowns, both of which were two other species—unrelated. Then they were off.

They assigned themselves specific animals, according to talents. Captain America took on the six gorillas and Iron Man handled the enhanced elephants; Hawkeye took out the wolves, snakes and lions while Falcon stayed above and gave them coordinates and warnings.

It was working, for the most part. Vetrah really outdid herself with enhancing the animals, as they were all tremendously strong and at some points seemed even intelligent. But eventually the elephants were taken down after Steve took out his fourth gorilla. The unknowns were taken out by Falcon quickly, and Hawkeye was efficient in bringing out all four wolves and one lion. That left seven animals after seventy two minutes of constant battle.

Vetrah was in and out of Falcon's sight, popping up in random places where the animals would follow. There seemed to be no real reason behind the woman's attacks yet, and even then Steve doubted he would care. He took out his last gorilla just after Haweye finally hit his first snake. Iron Man blasted the remaining lion.

Three left, all snakes.

"I can't see them," Falcon announced into the comms, and Steve kept a look out, Iron Man quickly following Falcon up into the sky to do his own searching.

It was eerily silent, save the few remaining pieces of rubble and debris that occasionally fell, and the distant wailing of sirens a few miles out. Everyone stayed quiet.

There was a quick rustle at Steve's right, and Steve quickly put his shield up in defense as a gigantic snake popped out of the ground, hissing as it shot toward him. He heard Hawkeye swear over the comms, and then there was an arrow whizzing past him, and two more followed, hitting the snake in both eyes and its snout. The thing coiled in itself, making a noise as if it was screaming, and continued to writhe and turn in to itself in pain. Steve took three steps back, not wanting the snake to hit him. He barely took a couple more before Iron Man yelled, "Cap, behind you!"

He turned around quickly, his shield already in place when suddenly he felt an enormous amount of pressure and was surprisingly being pushed back; the snakes fangs clanged against the shield. Steve fell onto his back, grunting. He heard repulsor whines from above, and finally the weight was lifted off of him. He was quick to get on his feet, Iron Man just a few feet in front of him, focused on the snake sporadically moving.

"Vetrah's heading north again, towards more civilians," Falcon announced, quickly following after her. "I've got a good shot this time. Clear, Cap?"

Steve nodded, eyes focused on the snake. He turned around towards the other that attacked him, and it was already lying still, ten more arrows stuck in it. "Yeah, get her before she can get away. We've got it here."

"There's still one more snake left," Iron Man informed, still only a few feet from Steve. With professionalism that was only gained through years of experience, he stepped closer to Iron Man, eyes focused on him. The helmet's direction stayed on the snake, which was slowly dying.

"Any readings?" Steve asked, and Iron Man shook his head.

"I've been fine with all the other animals, but the snakes I'm not able to detect until they're physically seen. Looking for heat signatures doesn't help at all, with all this shit they can hide under," Tony answered, obviously irritated. Steve nodded and asked Hawkeye if he saw any movement or trail. He got a negative.

He ordered Iron Man to keep a look out from above, since Falcon was out chasing Vetrah. He and Hawkeye stayed in a certain radius from one another as they went hunting, Iron Man close by in the sky.

Steve took slow and cautious steps, knowing that the snakes were fast and deadly. They were large, most likely around 20 feet, and so far of different types. The first snake had black and yellow stripes with a yellow underside, and the second looked a bit similar, both most likely poisonous. Steve didn't get a good look at Clint's snake from earlier.

When given  descriptions, the third snake was said to be something close to an anaconda, the colors green with multiple, large black splotches, and more on the dark, murky side, rather than bright and flashy. Steve paused for a second when Falcon called him over his comm.

"Yes?" Steve asked, and Falcon huffed from the other side.

"Finally cuffed Vetrah. She's mostly upset about her animals right now, but doesn't seem lethal at the moment. Um," Falcon hesitated, and Steve focused on Hawkeye a few yards away, his pose defensive and bow drawn. "How do I contact SHIELD again? I tried to ask Iron Man but he told me not to bother him...," Falcon trailed off, and Steve looked up at the sky in annoyance, Iron Man still circling around like a vulture.

Steve sighed. "Click—"

Oh God my arm fucking _hurts_ , was the first thing that Steve thought, and a millisecond later he realized that he was literally getting the air squeezed out of him. The next few seconds happen in a blur. There's someone yelling in his ear, and more yelling off in the distance. He heard repulsar whines and then Clint's very loud and startled, "DON'T! You'll hurt him!"

He accidentally let out a breath of air as he tried to breathe in, and then he started suffocating, the squeezing going tighter and tighter. He fell to the ground and felt his bones crack. He began freaking out when he couldn't take a breath in, and when he tried to move he felt the way his ribcage jostled, and a bone punctured something from inside; he almost passed out from the pain and lack of oxygen.

"It's killing him! Clint! Hurry! Clint! Someone—"

There's a moment when he does pass out, and the last thing he thought about was Tony's voice.

And the flash backs started.

~~~

Steve wakes up with a small groan, eyelids heavy and—well, everything felt heavy, and numb. Why?

He hears something from his—somewhere; a chair scrapes on the ground, rough and sudden, making him wince. There's footsteps, some heavy breathing and then it's completely silent when a door slams shut.

He falls back to sleep a couple seconds later.

~~~

"...shit Steve, come on. You're such a fucking asshole. I hope you know that."

~~~

"I...I... _fuck_. I can't...fuck you."

~~~

"Steve? I know you're not dead but just—you woke up for one second and now...Steve, _please_."

~~~

"...—friends. I'm worried about him, so what? Everyone else is, too."

"You need to rest, though, Tony. There're _bags_ under your eyes. I've got it from here."

~~~

"Wake up. I don't care if you hate me just _wake the fuck up_."

~~~

"—is that what you want to hear? Well, I can't, alright? What you said—it's true. They _always_ leave. And I can't...I don't want you to. I can't—"

~~~

It goes from black and complete silence to a comfortable buzzing. He stays like that for a few minutes, the buzz oddly soothing. He hears something shifting, and at first he pays no mind, up until he catches a sigh. He furrows his eyebrows, and the feeling is weird. He purses his lips a bit, and he winces from the cracks and light sting. He moves his fingers experimentally, and then something is buzzing—a phone.

Someone grunts and the buzzing stops. A second later there's a gruff, "They said any day now. I'll be home by tonight anyways...yeah...Pep—We've gone over this. I'm not having this conversation again."

Steve opens his mouth first for unknown reasons; just a part of the lips, as if he wanted to speak. His eyelids feel heavy, and he opens them with great difficulty. His eyes sting a bit, and everything's blurry at first. He blinks a couple times, the room too bright.

"Steve? Hey, I've gotta go, I'll talk to you later, sorry, bye. Steve?"

Steve blinks a couple more times, his eyes feeling dry. He looks at his right, and there's Tony. His heart beat rises. Tony glances at the machine next to his bed in worry.

"Hey, can you hear me? I'm gonna get a—someone. I don't know. Do I get the doctor or the nurse?" Tony asks to himself, and Steve makes a small noise from the back of his throat, moving his fingers a bit more.

Tony snaps his attention back to Steve. "Hey, hey, don't freak out. You're in the hospital. Physically, you're fine. We don't know if anything—if anything was damaged, but I'm gonna grab someone right now. Don't—try not to fall asleep. Please."

Steve makes another noise as Tony leaves, not exactly wanting to be alone. Tony hesitates, his hand on the handle. He turns around worriedly.

"Don't worry. I'm just—" he stops and shifts uncomfortably. "Oh, um, Shannon's working. She tries her best to visit. I'm only here because—I'm just gonna." He jerks and opens the door, and then leaves.

Tony doesn't come back.

~~~

Everyone visits him one by one after everyone's cleared to do so. It's nice having everyone check on him, and surprising to hear that snake of all things could have killed him.

The details of all the trauma Steve's body went through were a bit brutal. He doesn't bother thinking about them by the time he is cleared to leave, a few days after he wakes up. It's almost awkward being at the tower; it's as if everyone was already accustomed to Steve not being there. Or maybe they were afraid. Steve is vulnerable, too.

It's Clint, after a week of being home, that sits Steve down one afternoon.

"Tell me what's up with you and Tony."

Steve thinks about lying at first. His posture stiffens, and his fists automatically clench. Clint doesn't look like he's going to budge, and Steve doesn't believe he has the energy to keep anything a secret anymore anyways. Even then, if Clint, of all people, is asking, then maybe it wasn't so much of a secret after all.

Steve lets his shoulders slump.

"We were...fuck buddies, basically. A couple years. But." Steve shakes his head. "We—" _Me, He, who knows_ , "we ended it. A couple months ago, actually. Um. That's about it, really."

No. No, not really. But what's the point in going into detail when the drama has already passed?

Clint studies Steve for a bit, his expression a bit skeptical, and then accusing. "He fell in love with you, and you ended it. Is _that_ what really happened?"

Steve snorts, leaning back into his chair. He crosses his arms. "Funny. No. You'd think that, right? After all those women he falls in love with? God," Steve laughs, covering his face. "I never even had a chance."

Clint furrows his brows. "So, he isn't in love with you?"

Steve chuckles again. "No. Definitely not."

"And you know this? For sure?"

Steve sighs, sitting up straight again. He clears his throat. "Look, I really don't want to think about this right now. It's still a bit...sensitive. I'm gonna go work out for a bit. You're welcomed to join me."

Clint ignores him. "It's just...the way he's been for the past three weeks. You'd think you were already dead or something."

Steve stills, but not entirely. He patiently waits for Clint to finish. (He's a bit of a masochist when it comes to Tony.)

"He cried so hard those first few days, blaming himself. And when you woke up that first time...it crushed him when you went back to sleep. He stayed with you as much as he could—hell, he was constantly talking to you. And there I was, thinking you two weren't friends anymore." Clint looks up at Steve. The latter can't make eye contact and stares ahead. "He cared for you so much, and it was so raw and open, I think he scared himself. And now—and now he hasn't spoken to you once since you left that hospital." Clint sighs, close enough to be called a growl of frustration. "I just—no one knows what the fuck has been going on between you two, but you guys need to work it out. And soon. It isn't good for the team. We'd be down two if—"

"I was fought in World War Two and almost died less than a month ago. It's safe to say I've been through worse. I can handle myself, Clint."

"If one of you—" Clint stands, and Steve tenses. Clint immediately backs off, suddenly not very hostile. He slams his hands onto the table instead. "I think you're wrong. I think—Tony's been hurting. For awhile. And we've been through this; Tony gets hurt easily, it happens all the time. But you didn't—you should've—" Clint sucks in a breath. "Talk to him. Work something out; come to a resolution. Anything."

Steve goes livid for a second; he hasn't had a Steve and Tony talk in months. No way he's going to be the first to initiate that conversation. So, all that comes out is a firm, "No."

Clint glares.

~~~

"Get out," is the first thing Tony says when Steve walks into the workshop. Steve holds his ground, arms crossed.

"If you really didn't want me in here—"

"You somehow had access to override codes!"

"You gave them to me!" Steve responds, and Tony blinks at that, finally stepping away from his suit.

"Jarvis—"

"You gave them to Captain Rogers approximately ten months and one week ago. The reason behind it was for, quote, "Just in case we decide to get kinky and pretend—""

"Cut," Tony quickly says, and Steve starts to feel a blush, remembering exactly what Tony said. "You remember codes from almost a _year_ ago?"

"I," Steve hesitates, wondering if he should even bother arguing, and then he backs down. "No. This isn't what I'm here for. The team thinks that we should talk."

Tony hums. "And by team you mean Thor?"

Steve blinks. "Um, no. Clint sent me, actually. Natasha...helped."

Tony fumbles with the screwdriver that he picked up a few seconds ago, and eventually he tosses it. "Great. So the team is talking behind our backs."

"If it's affecting them, I don't blame them."

Tony lifts his arms up in exasperation. "Well what else are we going to do then, huh? I thought we were doing pretty well with being professional about this!"

"If the team—"

" _What else are we going to do_?" Tony asks again, and Steve finally stops to listen.

What else do you want _me_  to do?

"We," Steve pauses.

"I'm not leaving the team. And neither are you. Or is that why you're here?" Tony asks, getting worked up. Steve glares.

"For a genius, you sure know a whole lot of nothing."

Tony actually _chuckles_. "Is that your version of an insult?"

"You should know me better then that, is what I mean," Steve finally snaps, and Tony's face falls. Steve shakes his head. "Fine. Whatever. We tried, it failed. For all it's worth, I thought we were doing pretty fine too."

Tony nods, for once not having anything to say.

_God, this was pointless._

Steve makes a move to turn around, and Tony speaks up.

"You want an apology?"

Steve freezes, and all the emotions he's felt these past few _years_ rises up in an instant. Tony continues talking through that stupid mouth of his.

"I mean, not sure if you're even gonna get it, but there's probably a whole bunch of people that need one. One less wouldn't hur—"

"Have you ever _not_ been an asshole?" Steve asks incredulously, still not able to look at Tony's face.

"Probably. I think it started when I hit puberty, honestly."

" _Tony_."

Tony sucks in a breath. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Not an apology," Steve responds, crossing his arms. He continues to focus on everything _but_ Tony.

"I wanted to protect you," Tony says, and Steve snorts, but that's far from how he's feeling. So he turns to face Tony with a sarcastic smile.

"Great. Thank you so much for leading me on for almost three years and then proceeded to throw me away like trash after admitting that I _loved_ you. And, while doing so, be a complete ass about it. No. You know what it sounds like to me? You were protecting yourself."

Tony nods, clenching his jaw. "Alright. Let's say I said I loved you back, huh? Or-or tried an actually relationship with you, only to fuck it up and ruin both of us in the end? Is that what you want? I chose the smartest route that I could!"

"You chose the _easiest_ way out! I thought I deserved something a little bit more than a _too bad_!"

"What else do you want me to say?!" Tony asks, his face red with frustration and anger, and Steve screams.

"The truth!"

His voice echoes throughout the workshop. Its eerily silent afterwards; only their heavy breathing heard.

Tony icily glares at Steve, and charges toward him. Once he's close enough, he shoves Steve, causing him to stumble back. Tony follows his movements angrily.

"You want the truth?"

Steve holds his ground. Tony's anger slowly dissipates, and he physically attempts to bring it back.

"The truth," Tony starts, trying to think of something. It's so obvious, Steve doesn't know if he should even bother listening. "The truth—"

"I'm done, Tony. I honestly hope you find someone worth your time."

"The truth is I _do_ love you."

Steve doesn't even stutter at those words. In the back of his mind, he wonders if it's true. He wonders if Tony actually means those words, and if he does, if Steve himself can somehow find it in him to maybe forgive Tony—and start over with him. However, physically Steve smiles sarcastically. "Gee, Tony, that's so sweet. Tell me more. It's _exactly_ what you think I want to hear, isn't it?" Steve flutters his lashes for more effect. He's being cruel, and he knows it. He's so painfully aware, but he can't stop. He wants to dig his nails in; he needs to see the pain. He craves it.

But all Tony does is glare. "Stop it. I wouldn't lie about that."

The words are out of Steve's mouth before he can process them. "Wow, I feel so special then! It's not like there's a hundred others you've said that to!"

This one gets to Tony a bit more; he shoves Steve again, and Steve let's him. He can breathe a bit more easily now that he isn't so close. But it doesn't make him feel any better. The anger and frustration in Tony's face isn't enough.

"Don't act like that," Tony snaps, as if he's talking to a kid.

This makes Steve smile. Really, he doesn't feel like it, but this persona of his isn't leaving. Maybe he should stop. But that means letting Tony win.

"Like what?" Steve asks instead, feigning innocence. "Like I don't care? What? It doesn't feel so good?"

" _Steve_ , I'm being honest here." Tony seems to be closing off again, his face hardening, but Steve just can't find it in himself to care _enough_. Who cares that this is probably the last time they'll have a real conversation right? Steve wants to scream. _Let it go,_ but he can't. He's too mad.

"And so am I! You really think that after all this time I'm still looking for you to love me back?"

Tony finally closes off, his face blank. Steve continues. God, why is he like this?

"And especially you!" Steve spits out. It almost tastes like venom, the way it flies out of his mouth. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking." Steve, _stop_. "You. The most selfish man I know. I don't want your love. Do you really think I need that? Hell, I don't even _want_ it."

Tony turns around, walking further into his lab, and Steve somehow finds it in himself to laugh.

"Great, nice conversation. Just turn around and leave because _you_ decided your tired of it."

"Get out, Steve," Tony says with a sigh, so defeated that it takes Steve a moment to realize that Tony actually said that. But this isn't what he wanted. He wants Tony to get _mad_ ; to scream at him, to cry. And all he gets is a disappointed sigh.

_What do you want, Steve? What more can you want?_

Steve stands still, hands in fists as he tries to think of his next move. Should he just leave? He should. He really should. He's already done all he could; he's hurt Tony, obviously, but it didn't make him feel any better.

Well, who's the asshole now?

Steve sighs. "Tony—"

"I know," Tony says, his voice so thick it was probably forced out. He's not facing Steve; his back tense, and hands gripping his desk. He's shaking the slightest bit. No normal person at Steve's distance would have noticed. "I get it. And it's great. You moved on. Just like I knew you would. But just..." Tony shakes a bit harder; his knuckles turn white. His head is facing down, and Steve swears he can hear the grind of Tony's teeth from where he is.

" _Fuck_ ," Tony forces out, his voice strangled and sounding like peanut butter was smeared over his vocal chords. Steve's fists clench, because _never mind_. This isn't what he wanted. Isn't what he _wants_.

Steve takes a few steps closer, now processing everything that's happened. Tony said he loved him. Tony thinks Stevie's actually moved on. But why can't Steve speak? Is he really not ready to forgive Tony yet? Maybe not. But he wants to.

"Tony," he tries again, but Tony finally chokes out a sob:

"I'm _sorry_ ," he cries out. He bangs his fists onto the workshop table. "I'm sorry I was scared, Steve, and I couldn't be there for you like you needed me to. I'm sorry I led you on for so many years and kept seeing those—those women, when you've always been there for me. You were—are the best thing in my life and I couldn't—I was scared to ruin that. I love you too Steve—I've been in love with you. From the beginning but I..." Tony trails off with another cry, and Steve doesn't know what to do.

He doesn't know what to do. So all that comes out is a bleak, "I'm sorry, too." And then he turns around, walking out the lab.

Tony doesn't stop crying; the sound only cutting out when Steve closes the door behind him.

~~~  
Extra:

Weeks afterwards, they're friends. Well, as close as friends they could be. And Steve thought he was okay with it. He really did.

But now Tony's rumored to have a girlfriend, and Steve's not so sure anymore.

And there's nothing wrong with asking. Randomly. At nine o'clock in the morning. In the kitchen.

Tony luckily chokes on his saliva, rather his coffee. It probably hurts less. Once he's done coughing, he winces and asks, "What?"

Steve shrugs, digging into his eggs absentmindedly. "I don't know. I was just—I mean, it's been awhile and..." Honestly, he has no idea. Well, he does. Of course he does. He just can't tell Tony that.

But Tony hums, accepting that answer and taking a nice gulp of his ( _scalding_ ) coffee. "Oh—Tiffany? I don't know. She's—no, we're not anything serious." Tony ponders for a second. "Yet. Maybe."

Steve nods. "Oh. Good. That's cool." He shoves more eggs into his mouth.

There's a moment of silence, and Steve can't tell if it's awkward or not.

"What about you?" Tony eventually asks, and Steve looks up in confusion. Tony raises his coffee and points at him with it, as if that clarifies anything. He finally speaks when Steve doesn't answer. "Sharon? Or someone else?"

Steve shakes his head. "Sharon—we haven't really..." he trails off, and even though Tony doesn't know exactly what he means, he gets the overall message, and he nods.

"Oh."

It's silent again. Steve decides this is considered awkward silence.

"I just wanted to—"

"Steve—"

They both try to speak at the same time, and Tony relents with a smile, but Steve shakes his head.

"No, it isn't anything important, you go first," Steve says, and Tony shakes his head.

"No, never mind, I really shouldn't." Tony drinks a bit more from his mug and then re-fills it to the brim.

Steve stops himself from sagging in defeat. He drags his fork through his eggs. He decides to go for nonchalant as he says his next words, but hope still seeks a bit through. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm still here for you. In case you need me. I know how it can get—"

Tony nods his head quickly. "Ah, yup, thanks. I'll keep that in mind. I've gotta go, um, finish. Stuff. I'll talk to you later."

Steve stands up, quickly following Tony. Darn it. He knows he did something wrong. "Hey, no, Tony. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off—"

"It's fine. It's not you," Tony says quickly, but his smile is so fake it doesn't convince Steve in the slightest.

"Tony, I really didn't mean to offend—"

"I did fine last time, alright?" Tony says quickly. It isn't exactly a snap, or angry, but it does come out a bit sharp and hurriedly. Tony shifts uncomfortably when Steve stands still. "I mean...whatever. It's fine. I've really gotta go."

"I'm sorry," Steve says after him, and Tony sighs, turning back to Steve.

"I get it, Steve. It's fine."

Steve shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry for how I acted before. I messed up. I was hurt and wasn't thinking clearly. I want you to know that...I haven't..." Oh God, not now. Steve's throat starts to close up. He's never actually said these words to Tony. "I still—"

"Steve, stop," Tony says sharply, but Steve barrels on forward, not letting Tony scare or anger him away.

"I love you, Tony. I love you. I still do. And I won't stop. Because when you love someone, when you truly, whole heartedly love someone you don't get hurt and then get over it—you get hurt and then learn to live with it. And I've done that. I'm doing that.  I still love you."

Tony stops, mouth parted open just the slightest.

"A lot of people say they love me, Steve," Tony says softly, but he's looking at Steve with such hope.

"And a lot of people leave, but I'm here. And I'm willing to stay." Steve stutters and adds in hastily, "With you. If-if you let me. Or want me to."

Tony looks lost, with the way his eyes dart around and his breathing quickens. "Do _you_  want to?"

Steve thinks, but he already knows the answer. "I forgive you, Tony. Do you forgive me?"

Tony breathes out shakily and raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Hell, Steve, I don't need to forgive anything. You've done nothing wrong. You shouldn't—"

"Tony," Steve snaps, and he walks closer to the shaking man. He looks so nervous, and it looks so weirdly out of place. He walks close enough to be able to touch him if he wanted to, but far enough to give Tony space if he needs it. "I think I can decide for myself," he says, attempting a calmer approach.

Tony stares at him, eyes calculating. It's almost intimidating the way he does it, and how it can make someone feel with how scrutinizing it is.

But it eventually goes away, and Tony relents with a very, very slight nod.

"Okay," he says quietly, and then he does another nod, this one much more noticeable. "Yeah, okay. I can—we can try this. We're really doing this?"

Steve hesitantly smiles, taking a small step closer, and he gently takes Tony's hand. Tony looks down at it with a small lift in his lips, but his eyes sparkle, and that gives Steve confidence.

"Yeah," Steve says, just as quietly. "We're really doing this."

**Author's Note:**

> Ummmm so how was it? Hoping I did alright. I don't exactly know how angst works (tho I LOVE IT I LOVE ANGST SO MUCH) but hopefully I did okay. For some reason I'm scared that I didn't do it right. Anyway a I hope someone's enjoyed the stony. Bye amigos!
> 
>  
> 
> Ummm psst would anyone be interested in a, not necessarily part two, but kinda because I want to write maybe their date and then their first time like making love after MONTHS but super sweet but idk is anyone interested??? Or maybe Tony's POV? Or both???? Sorry okay bye now


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